


mess I make of you

by Nakimochiku



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Begging, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Edgeplay, M/M, Oral Sex, Praise Kink, Slight Impact Play, Slut Shaming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-15
Updated: 2016-07-15
Packaged: 2018-07-24 06:41:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7498095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nakimochiku/pseuds/Nakimochiku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Burr doesn't make this easy.  But he's gonna be good for him, just the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	mess I make of you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [enkiduu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/enkiduu/gifts).



> (accidentally write 2k of filthy porn, sorry not sorry)

Burr doesn’t make it easy. There’s a spark of resentment in his gaze, a tightness around his mouth. Hamilton bites it away, digs his fingers into his hips hard, presses him against the wall, says, “Gonna make you ask me for it.” Burr makes a soft sound, neither an affirmative nor an argument, burying his fingers in Hamilton’s hair and tugging hard, crushing their lips together. This is easy; kissing, nibbling his bottom lip, sucking his tongue, his mouth hot and his moans quiet. “You're gonna be good for me.”

Burr laughs, his lips are kiss swollen and shiny. “When have I ever been good for you?” His voice is wry, but his shirt is already open, his jacket is crumpled at their feet. “If anything, you’re always good for me.”

“Could list a few times.” Hamilton smirks. But Burr doesn't give him a chance to enumerate. He isn't in the mood for his banter, doesn't want witticisms. He drags him in close again; their kisses are biting, hurtful, arguing with teeth and tongue. His lips are soft, cheeks rubbed raw by Hamilton’s beard, both moaning little noises when they shift just right. They rock into each other, trying to find friction while their lips slide together. Burr’s cock is hard and insistent against his thigh and Hamilton presses up, lets him grind down, legs straining to find the right angle while his hips work, head tipped back against the door so Hamilton can see his throat as he swallows, thinks of his cock in that mouth. He bites at his throat hard, sucking bruises over and over, tasting soap, salt, chemical after shave, the scrape of evening stubble rough on his tongue. Hamilton wants to make him cry, all he gets is a self satisfied purr. They pant against each other’s lips, hands trying to find purchase in rumpled clothes, pulling the other closer, pressing harder against the door, skin so hot Hamilton wants nothing more than for them to catch fire, knees and thighs giving just the right amount of pressure. “That time I fucked you in the car. That time you got on your knees for me in the office, you were good for me then.”

“Shut up, Hamilton or make good on your promise.” Burr’s eyes flash, and he cups Hamilton’s cock through the expensive fabric of his slacks, a challenge.

“I can do both.”

Burr doesn’t make it easy; Hamilton isn’t entirely sure if they are fighting or making up. All he knows is he slaps Burr across the face, and Burr’s lips part on a silent sound, eyes sliding shut, shuddering against him so prettily Hamilton has to do it again. It doesn’t even matter that Burr’s skin doesn’t go red, it gets hot and his eyes glaze over, liquid and deep, so Hamilton says, “You like that? You like taking it?” Burr moans a vicious noise, Hamilton can't help his groan in response. Their hands are everywhere now, skin sweat slick, nails digging in hard and scraping. His scalp aches from the force of Burr’s fingers in his hair. Burr’s skin, the taut column of his throat, the delicate bones of his collar, is discoloured around the indented rings of his teeth. “Fucking slut.” Hamilton breathes, hands tight on Burrs ass, urging their hips together.

Maybe Burr would reply with something smart, but he settles on tugging his hair, wrenching his head back to sink his teeth into his throat to give him a matching set of marks. “Like knows like.” He mutters. His patience frays and snaps. He tears at Burr’s shirt to reveal his chest, rising with quickened breaths, scrapes his nails down to leave raised welts. Burr makes quick work of his buckle, looks at him through his lashes, coy and playful and sly. “You want to see me on my knees for you, like last time? You want to fuck my mouth?” He licks his lips meaningfully and smiles.

“Yes.” Hamilton hisses shamelessly. He could wax poetic about Burr’s mouth, if either of them were in the mood for it. Instead he pushes his shoulders, and Burr goes down easily, settles, nosing at Hamilton’s cock through the fabric, mouthing at it. He makes a frustrated noise through his nose, but Burr just smirks at him and takes his time. His breath his hot, even through the fabric, lips tracing the shape of him. He sighs, “You were made to be on your knees for me like this.”

Burr hums an amused, “Is that so?” He draws his cock out, kisses the head lightly before wrapping his lips around it tightly to pull the foreskin away, tongue flicking against the ridge, pleased sound building in his chest when Hamilton curses. He relaxes his jaw to pull him all the way in, right to his throat and swallowing around him. He moans when Hamilton’s hips jerk, digs his fingers into the backs of his thighs to pull him in, tongue working the underside, moaning enthusiastically. His cheeks hollow as he draws up, pressure building delightfully. He watches him intensely as he blows him, lets the head of his cock pop from between his lips to catch precum on his tongue before moving to suck at his balls.

Hamilton might be whispering filthy things like, “that’s right, just like that, your mouth is so pretty--” hips easing in and out, watching his cock slide over those pretty, swollen lips. “You were made for it; you love it.” Hamilton sighs out. Burr’s dark eyes flash again like he’s laughing.

Burr doesn’t make it easy; He makes it torture. He brings Hamilton close, until he’s straining into his mouth against his hands on his hips, glistening with sweat, high desperate noises embarrassing and frequent despite how he tries to bite them back. He doesn’t ask for it, so Burr doesn’t give it to him, backing off just before he falls off the edge. “Fuck, Burr, you--” he gasps, fingers running over his scalp when he pulls away, watching his swollen lips slick with spit. He grins at him, mouth dark and obscene, before he opens it again to take Hamilton into his throat again while he mewls his satisfaction, fucks his face with increasing need, only for it to happen all over again.

“Could keep you like this all night, whining for me.” Burr says roughly, biting the jutting bone of his pelvis. His voice is all gravel from taking his cock into his throat, and electricity jars down his spine at how wrecked, how filthy he sounds. His pupils are blown, his eyes are black, and he blinks up at him like he’s waiting for something. Hamilton’s hair sticks to the back of his neck with sweat. He pulls Burr up into a filthy kiss, licking into his mouth, sucking his tongue, chasing the taste of himself.

“I don’t whine!” Hamilton retorts. He presses Burr to the wall and pauses just long enough to look at him, before he turns him around. He feels in his jacket pocket for lube, before taking it off and tossing it away. Burr watches him over his shoulder, pants eased down his hips, shirt hanging off one arm. He looks so pretty when he isn’t so put together. Hamilton’s fingers ghost briefly over his cock, pressing teasingly to his hole and hinting. He circles it, rubs his thumb there and presses until Burr squirms and wiggles for him.

“Get on with it.” Burr tosses over his shoulder.

“Eager for it?” Hamilton smirks, pulling away to smear lube over his fingers. Burr makes a frustrated noise in his chest, and his smirk grows wider. His fingers return, gentle and probing, the little furl if his hole giving to the press, tight and clenching, while Burr hums softly, spreading his thighs and offering himself up. “Fuck.” Hamilton hisses, working his fingers inside. He has no words for all his perfect skin, marred by his teeth and his kisses, his muted noises of pleasure. He’s such a--

“Fuck, yes.” Burr's voice rumbles and falls away weakly, moving in time with Hamilton's fingers, urging them deeper. “F-- Hamilton.”

“Yeah I know. You could come just like this, couldn’t you?” He sinks his teeth into Burr’s shoulder, freehand smoothing along his flank. “Slut.” He murmurs affectionately, twisting his fingers. “I could wreck you, just like this.”

“Shut up.” Burr hisses, pressing his forehead to the wall, trying to draw on his well of patience. Hamilton’s fingers inside him rob him of that. He shudders as Hamilton fucks him easily, bites his lip on his noises, leaving relative quiet: the slide of their skin, the slick noises his fingers make moving in and out of him, their ragged breathing. “Oh god.” Burr pants, squeezing his eyes shut and arching into his fingers.

“Could leave you like this.” Hamilton muses aloud, adding a third finger and more lube, Burr gasping in delight. “Could fuck you with my fingers till you beg--”

“You wouldn't dare.”

“Wouldn't I?” He drags his teeth gently over the knob of bone at the nape of Burr's neck, feels his shiver. “I like you like this, all pretty and open for me.” His free hand settles on Burr’s belly, knuckles brushing the tip of his leaking cock when he jerks, shocking a little hiss from his. “You're the one who’s hungry for my cock.”

“I'm not--” the protest is lost in a twist of fingers, caught behind his teeth. But Hamilton doesn’t draw it out, tempting though the thought is. He draws his fingers out, leaving Burr’s hole shiny and twitching. He hurriedly slicks his cock, presses the head against his loosened hole so Burr moans a deep encouraging noise. He sinks into him, swallowed up by Burr’s greedy body.

Burr doesn't make it easy. His belly is tense and his thighs tremble but he's so tight and hot inside Hamilton has to bite his lip, hold back the clenches ball of arousal as he sinks inside him, his hole opening to the press of his cock. “Hamil--” Burr starts, hips jerking back, fingers scrabbling against the door for purchase. Hamilton breathes against his neck, biting his way across the tight muscles of his shoulders, his shifting brown skin. Burr’s back bows prettily, pressing his ass back and finding no relief. “Hamilton!”

“If you want it, ask for it.” He sounds more in control than he feels. One hand settles on Burr’s hip to hold him still, grinds in slowly just to hear Burr swallow back a needy little keen, pulls out just as slowly. He has no patience, and Burr has all the patience in the world, but here the tables have turned, and Burr has been reduced to an animal, greedy. “Ask me for it.” He reminds, rolling his hips, fascinated with the stretch of his hole around his cock, his round muscled ass spread by his hands so he can watch Burr’s body clench around him. “Ask me, And I’ll be good for you.”

“Fuck me,” Burr whispers urgently. “Give it to me, make me--” a keens a long noise when Hamilton starts up a steady pace, lets his head hang loosely. “Yes, that’s it, fuck!” He picks up the pace to hear Burrs increasingly satisfied noises. His mouth is slack, each encouraging word blends into another, his cock bobs untouched between his thighs, straining towards his belly and leaking come. 

He fucks Burr methodically, holds him by the hips, digs his nails in, pulls him back onto his cock so he jerks with every inward thrust, little grunts forced from them both. His pace is hard, fast, brutal, deep, filling Burr, opening him, ruining him. “You're so pretty when you're desperate.” Hamilton says when Burr cries out, body straining to keep up, fucking himself back onto Hamilton. His muscles shift beneath his skin, sweat gathers at the back of his neck, at the dimpled hollow of his back.

“So good, you’re so good fuck, harder-- yes!” He leaves marks in the door with his nails, babbling unintelligible noises that might be his name, voice rough, panting his praises to the wall as though he hopes it’ll swallow them. But Hamilton hears the desperate whispered chant just the same, “so good so good so good so--oh--!” Hamilton pushes his back so he bends a little lower, tilting his hips up to get a new angle. He’s going to shake apart just listening to him, his voice so rough, cracking and breathless on his praise. Burr sings then, trembling hard. “There! Alex-Alexander--”

His muscles tightened unbearably when he touches his prostate, but his mouth drops open and he moans noisily without restraint. He sobs when Hamilton draws out, keens when he thrusts back in, each sound caught on another timed to the rhythm Hamilton sets. “Can I-- can I--” He gasps out, words a little slurred, fucked stupid, arms shaking as he struggles to keep himself steady

“Not yet.” He grips the base of Burr’s cock tight, revels in his desperate fucking wheeze. It’d be so easy to say yes, let Burr come all over his fingers, keep fucking him until he actually cries, caught on the painful edge of overstimulation, and keep fucking him past that, until he’s sated and sloppy. “Not yet, baby you gotta wait for it, you gotta--” He babbles. Burr’s body is fucking perfect, original sin and heaven all in one. His voice breaking around Hamilton’s name is luxury. “Fuck, look at you.” He doesn’t have the breath but he speaks anyway, stilted around his own moans. “You’re a mess. My perfect mess gagging for it--” His nails bite into his hips, the meat of his ass, his thigh. Burr moans at all of it, reaching back shakily to grip Hamilton’s hair, pull hard, so Hamilton moans too, and they’re both messes for each other.

“Alexander!” Burr calls desperately. His control nearly snaps right there. “Please, Alexander, Please, I--!” Hamilton wishes they’d done this on the bed, wishes he could pin his wrists against the mattress and watch his face, watch his glazed eyes and the curve of his lips around his moans. He wishes he could watch his cock spurt white all over his taut trembling belly, the blissed out look he gets when he comes.

“Ask me properly.” he growls against Burr’s ear, slowing his pace so he has mind and breath enough to speak. Burr whimpers so beautifully he nearly says damn the rest, nearly pins him against the wall to pound him until they both find the peak.

“Wanna come, want--” he swallows thickly, trying to regain his composure. A rough thrust rips that from him again. “Please let me, Alexander--” He grinds his ass back for him, begging for it.

“Fuck, Aaron.” Hamilton gasps. He changes his grip on his hips, fucks into him so the rush of his own blood in his ears nearly drowns out Burr’s reminders that he’s “so good, fuck me so good, want, fuck, Alexander, you’re so good!” His hips snap, jar noises out of Burr’s mouth, until Hamilton can’t hold out anymore and says, “Yeah baby, fucking come--” Burr goes still, all his noises caught in his chest, shivering hard as he comes. Hamilton fucks him through it, presses kisses at the collection of bruises on Burr’s shoulder as his own orgasm crests and over takes him, hot in his veins.

Here alone, Burr is easy.

They stand against the wall for a long moment, panting but otherwise silent, until Hamilton gathers the strength to draw away. Burr mumbles, soft and pliant, his anger fucked out of him. He wants to do it again, wants to watch Burr ride him-- Heat settles in his belly to be kept for later, as he studies the marks all over Burr’s body, fading into his dark skin. “We should go to bed, probably.” Hamilton says, jostling Burr to get him to open his eyes. “Come on, no sleeping. Bed.”

“We should have gone to bed in the first place.” Burr grouses, leaning down stiffly to grab his clothes from the floor. “But no, you wanted to fuck right here--”

“And if you come to bed I’ll fuck you there.”

Burr snorts, tosses him an easy, self assured smirk. “No.” He says, sultry and low. “I think you deserve a reward after being so good to me,”

Hamilton smirks back. “When have I ever been good for you?”

“Could name a few times.”


End file.
